


The Guilt Won't Haunt You Forever

by genderqueer_batman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU where mulder has a bed, Angst, Gen, Poltergeists, Post-Episode: s03e02 Paperclip, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderqueer_batman/pseuds/genderqueer_batman
Summary: When a 15-year-old boy is haunted by the poltergeist of his dead sister, the only way he can find them both peace is to confront his grief and the guilt that he caused her death.Alternatively, in which a favor for a friend forces Mulder and Scully to actually talk about their feelings for once in their goddamn lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Jordan for letting me bounce ideas off of them. Love you kid

It was the first warm night of the year, and Joel had begged his parents to let him set up the tent in the backyard and invite his friends over to camp out. After Bella, even the smallest things took convincing. Joel couldn’t exactly blame them; if he was in their place he wouldn’t let himself do anything either.

But they had finally relented, and Joel had called three of his friends before they could change their minds.

Eric had arrived first, and helped Joel set up the tent. Now they were laying on their sleeping bags, an impressive collection of Spider-Man comics stacked between them. When Adam came, he brought some more.

Derek, when he arrived, hadn’t brought any comics. Instead…

“No, we’re not using that,” said Joel when Derek unfolded the Ouija board.

“Come on, Joel, it’ll be fun,” said Derek. “We can play when it gets dark.”

“You used to like this kind of stuff,” added Adam.

“Well I don’t anymore,” muttered Joel. He wished they’d just drop it. It should have been obvious why he didn’t want to.

But they didn’t let it go. “What, are you scared?” said Derek.

Shit, Joel couldn’t back out of this one. If he said he was scared, they’d never let him hear the end of it. They’d call him a girl, and what 14-year-old boy wanted to hang out with a girl? So he was trapped. “I’m not scared,” he told them. “I just don’t want to.”

“What if we reach Bella?” said Eric.

That was what Joel didn’t want. How could he talk to her, after what happened? “What if we reach Bella?” he said. “What do you think she’d say to me? She’d be mad. Do you want a mad ghost hanging around while we sleep outside?”

“Come on man,” said Derek. “She was your sister, how mad can she be?”

“You have a sister,” Joel pointed out. “You two get mad at each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but she’s still my sister.”

“What if it was her, Derek?”

“I’d want to talk to her, tell her I was sorry!” said Derek. “Don’t you want to tell Bella you’re sorry?”

Yes. “I don’t want to, Derek,” repeated Joel. “Not tonight.”

Derek exchanged a look with Adam and Eric, and then slowly nodded. “Alright,” he agreed, and put it back in its box.

There was a catch. Joel knew there had to be a catch. But he didn’t ask what. Instead, he said, “When it gets dark enough, we can start a bonfire and make smores.”

His friends seemed to like that, so when it got dark enough, Eric lit the fire while Joel ran inside to grab the marshmallows. The four of them ended up eating the whole bag as the fire slowly burnt out.

Joel checked his watch in the soft glow of the dying flames. “Guys, it’s almost midnight,” he told them. “We should start being quieter, I don’t want to wake up Mom and Dad.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to use the Ouija board?” said Derek. “Midnight is the perfect time.”

God dammit. Joel should have known that Derek wouldn’t let it go so easily. “I’m sure, Derek,” he said. “Not tonight, okay?”

Derek nodded, and that was the end of it.

Or it should have been.

Around 2:30 am, Joel suggested that they go to sleep. “It’s a weekday, and my parents might wake us up before they go to work.”

Surprisingly, the other boys agreed. Joel put out the fire and used a small flashlight to find his way back to the tent. Even though there was plenty of room for all four sleeping bags, Joel slid his over to the corner because he wasn’t gay. The others slid theirs over to corners too. “Goodnight guys,” said Joel, switching off the flashlight.

“Goodnight,” the other three mumbled in awkward unison.

Joel curled his long, lanky legs – he’d been waiting on the rest of that growth spurt for weeks now – and fell asleep almost immediately.

***

The next morning, Joel was the last to awaken. Eric, Adam, and Derek were sitting up on top of their sleeping bags, silent.

“Did you guys sleep okay?” asked Joel, yawning as he sat up.

The three of them exchanged an uncomfortable look.

Immediately awake, Joel pressed, “Did something happen last night?”

“We weren’t tired when you went to sleep, so we took out the Ouija board again,” admitted Derek. “And–”

“I told you I didn’t want to use it,” interrupted Joel.

“We didn’t think anything would happen,” said Adam.

“What did happen?” Joel was almost too afraid to ask.

His three friends exchanged another look.

“We talked to Bella?” said Derek, his voice cracking so that the words came out as a squeak.

“That’s why I fucking told you not to use the Ouija board.” Joel had known this was going to happen. Of course it was. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me?”

“Don’t you want to know what she said?”

Did he? “No, I don’t,” he lied.

“Really? Because I do.”

What did he mean by that? “You were right there, do you not know what she said?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t remember anything from last night,” he told Joel. “When we asked if it was Bella and she said yes, that’s the last thing I can remember.”

“Same here,” said Adam. “We must have blacked out.”

“So we’ll never know what she said anyway,” said Joel. He was relieved. Maybe they could forget this ever happened.

“Not necessarily,” said Derek. He shifted on top of his sleeping bag to reveal a chunky video camera. “We wanted you to be able to see what she said for yourself, so we tried to get it on tape. We used your flashlights so that we’d be able to see it, we figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“What time is it now?” asked Joel.

Eric checked his watch. “It’s quarter to eleven,” he said.

“My parents are both at work, let’s put the tape into the VCR.”

***

Joel pressed play on the remote as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was not ready for this. He wasn’t.

The picture was black at first, and then Adam’s quiet voice said, “It’s on.”

One of them clicked the flashlight on, and shined the beam on Eric. “What time is it?”

Eric made a show of checking his watch before saying, “It’s 3:02 am.”

The camera jolted a bit as Adam set it down. Derek, who must have been holding the flashlight, also sets it down, making sure it’s focused on the Ouija board on the floor. The light doesn’t quite reach the boys’ faces as they sit down around the board, leaving enough space in front of the camera where Joel would have sat.

Derek put his hand on the piece first, Eric and Adam following. “Should I start?” said Derek. The other boys nodded, so Derek took a deep breath and went on, “Is anybody here?”

Slowly, the pointer moved to ‘yes.’

“One of y’all better not be doing this,” whispered Derek.

Adam shook his head. “It’s not me,” he replied.

“Ask if it’s Bella,” said Eric.

“Okay.” Derek took another deep breath. “Whoever we’re speaking to, is this Bella? Bella Mason?”

The pointer moved off the ‘yes,’ only to immediately return to it.

On the couch, Eric nudged Joel’s arm. “This is about where we stop remembering,” he told him. “Whatever happens next, we want to know too.”

On the video, Derek was whispering, “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

“Ask her how she is,” said Adam. “Ask her if she’s at peace.”

Derek nodded and asked, “Bella, are you at peace? Are you happy?”

The pointer moved slowly to ‘no.’

“Why?” Derek’s voice was almost silent. “What’s wrong? Why can’t you move on?”

Still slowly, the pointer moved to spell out J-O-E-L.

“Joel?” breathed Derek. “What did he do?”

“You idiot,” said Eric. “We all know what he did.”

But the pointer started moving again. S-A-D, it spelled out.

“Sad?” asked Adam. “Of course he’s sad.”

W-O-N-T M-O-V-E O-N, spelled the pointer. Bella.

“It hasn’t even been a year yet–”

Adam was interrupted by the pointer moving again: S-T-O-P B-E-I-N-G S-A-D S-T-O-P B-E-I-NG SAD STOP BEING SAD STOPBEINGSADSTOP

And the pointer and the board flew off the floor and the picture went dark. The tape in the VCR stopped abruptly.

Joel turned to look at his friends next to him. “Guys,” he said slowly, unsure how to even react to what he had seen. “What did you do?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Any weekend plans, Mulder?” asked Scully as she headed for the door to their basement office.

“Yeah, actually,” said Mulder. “The guys asked me to look into something for a friend of Byers’, mentioned something about a ghost. I promised them I’d check it out on Saturday.”

Scully raised an eyebrow. “A ghost,” she repeated flatly. “And what do you think, Mulder?”

He grinned at her. “The idea has merit,” he said. “Although from what I’ve heard, I think a poltergeist is a more likely explanation.”

“A poltergeist.”

Neither of them knew exactly why Scully bothered asking.

Mulder went on, “Yeah, the main difference being that a ghost tends to haunt a place, while a poltergeist haunts a person. You know, Scully, I’m actually a little disappointed that we haven’t had an X-file about a poltergeist yet.”

“If they existed I’m sure there would be more poltergeist-related cases.”

“Well, I’m heading to Coal, Virginia tomorrow to find out,” Mulder told her. “Do you know where that is?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.” Mulder patted his computer, which rattled at the impact. “I’m printing out directions before I leave.”

One hand on the doorframe, Scully said, “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Before she left, Mulder said, “Wait, wait. Will you be around, in case I need you?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and hurriedly amended, “In case I need your help?”

“Sure, Mulder. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, Scully left for the weekend.

***

Scully had just finished putting her groceries away when her home phone line rang. “Hello?” she answered it, sure of who it would be anyway.

Sure enough, “Scully, it’s me,” said Mulder. “How soon can you get here?”

“To Coal?”

“Yeah, Coal. Can you make it in an hour?”

“Mulder, I don’t even know where Coal is. It’s not on the map.” Scully skimmed through page after page in an atlas of Virginia, but Coal wasn’t anywhere.

“It’s gotta be, Scully. It’s less than an hour straight down 95. The town has three exits.”

Scully furrowed her eyebrows. Funny, all the times she’s driven on 95 and never noticed any of them. “So if I drive, I’ll be able to find Coal?”

“Yeah, it should be pretty obvious. Take the second Coal exit, and make a right. Call me when you get off the highway.”

“Okay, Mulder. I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and took a deep breath, and wondered if he really needed her on this non-case. He hadn’t let her have a weekend alone since…

She didn’t want to think about it.

But Scully had been looking forward to just a weekend to herself, away from work, away from the X-files, away from Mulder.

Now she had to drive out to Coal, Virginia, to give her coworker a second opinion on a poltergeist, and pay attention on the highway since he hadn’t given her an exit number.

She was really going above and beyond for him, she mused as she got into her car, and she had been since day one.

The drive to Coal wasn’t that bad. There was less traffic than usual for a Saturday, and in less than an hour and a half Scully took the second exit to Coal, turned right at the stoplight, and pulled out her phone to speed dial her partner.

Mulder picked up on the first ring. “Are you here yet, Scully?”

“Yeah, I called as soon as I turned off the highway, like you asked me to.” The right lane merged into the left lane, and Scully put her signal on and checked her blindspot as she moved left. “So where am I going, Mulder?”

He stayed on the line with her, giving her directions until she pulled into the driveway. And as she walked up to the front door he opened it for her.

“You better have a good reason for calling me here, Mulder,” Scully greeted him.

“What, I don’t even get a nice hello, ye of little faith?”

For a two-story house, presumably with a family living inside, it was strangely quiet. “Mulder, is anybody else home?” Scully asked him.

“No, I told the Masons to leave while I made sure it has nothing to do with the house,” he replied. “The boy is at a friend’s house, and the parents took their dog to the park.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” said Scully. “If it is a – a poltergeist, wouldn’t it be best to keep an eye on it?”

“Not necessarily.” With a hand on the small of her back, Mulder led her into the living room. “We’ve seen something like this before. Remember Howard Graves?”

“Yes, but in that case he seemed to be protecting his – his host,” protested Scully as she was sat down on the couch in front of the TV. “From what little you’ve told me that doesn’t seem to be the case here.”

It was an invitation to him to tell her more about this non-case. As Mulder sat next to her on the couch he explained, “There was a daughter in this family. She died in an accident last December. Earlier this week, the son’s friends tried contacting her via Ouija board at a sleepover, and the next morning was when unexplained occurrences started happening.”

“Like what, Mulder?” And why do you need me for this, she didn’t dare voice aloud.

“I’ll tell you that later,” he said. He picked up the TV remote from the coffee table in front of them and clicked it on. “For now, there’s a video I’d like you to watch.”

“I don’t know, Mulder, we have very different film preferences,” teased Scully before turning her attention to the TV.

The video that started playing seemed to be a home video, but it was dark and quiet and Scully couldn’t make out much at first. Then it dawned on her.

“Did the boy’s friends get the Ouija board on film?” she whispered.

Mulder nodded. “He wasn’t involved, he was asleep at the time,” he said. “And the other boys report memory loss from right after this point.” He paused the video when the Ouija pointer was at ‘yes.’

Intrigued, Scully murmured, “Okay,” as Mulder resumed the video.

Once the screen went black, Mulder looked over at Scully. “Well?”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she said. “Any of those boys could have been moving the piece themselves. It’s a common sleepover game. Perhaps they wanted to make Joel feel better about the death of his sister, so they faked contacting her.”

“But why would they fake a violent end like that?” countered Mulder. “If they were trying to make him feel better, as you suggest, why not have a short and sweet message ready to go?”

“You think that they actually contacted her and she came back as a poltergeist.”

It wasn’t a question, and Mulder knew it, so he just nodded for her to continue.

“Is memory loss usually associated with the summoning of a poltergeist?”

“Not that I know of,” admitted Mulder. “But this is the first time I’ve seen firsthand accounts of such events, Scully. There’s a lot even I don’t know yet.”

Now Scully asked. “So what do you need me for?”

“Every time I come up with a theory like this, you tell me I’m crazy and help me find evidence to back it up,” he said. “I know you didn’t want to come out here, Scully, but I can’t do this on my own.”

She let out a sigh. Well, she was already here. “What do you need me to do?”

“That’s the spirit!”

The pun was not lost on Scully, but she chose to ignore it as she repeated, “What do you need from me, Mulder?”

Replacing the TV remote on the coffee table before replying, Mulder shifted on the couch. “You know my theory, Scully.”

“A poltergeist,” she supplied.

“Can you help me rule out any other possibilities first? And then we’ll call them back inside and try to get rid of it.”

“You don’t need me for that, Mulder,” said Scully. “You’re a trained investigator, and this isn’t even a case. So why did you really call me?”

There was silence for a few seconds, and a couple times Mulder opened his mouth to speak but didn’t say a word. Until, looking at the floor, Mulder mumbled something Scully couldn’t quite catch.

“Mulder?” she prompted.

“I didn’t want to be here alone,” he admitted. “Not after everything that happened two weeks ago. And–” He cut himself off before he finished.

“And what, Mulder?”

“Nothing, Scully,” he murmured. He still wouldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here for no reason.”

Scully reached out to lightly touch his elbow. She kept her hand there until he finally looked at her, and offered him a small smile. “I’m here, Mulder,” she said. “Let’s catch this poltergeist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i am aware that bc it takes place right after paperclip this fic is set in 1995 & mapquest wasn't online until 1996 but idk how people knew how to get anywhere back in the stone age so


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been like 2 months since i posted the last chapter but ive got extreme depression and a shitty home situation and no job so im under a lot of stress rn, hope you understand there won't be regular updates

It didn’t take the two of them long to search the small house for signs of paranormal activity, not that Scully really knew what she was looking for. But Mulder had asked her to look out for anything outside the ordinary, so she looked.

Since neither of them found anything outside the ordinary, even by Mulder’s standards, Mulder called the family back to the house so they could try to figure something else out.

While they waited for the Masons to return, Scully said to Mulder, “You know, I’m still not convinced there’s anything to this.”

“What do you mean?” said Mulder. “You saw that video.”

“It doesn’t prove anything, Mulder,” argued Scully. “It was likely just boys being boys.”

“No, I think there was something else there,” said Mulder. “I believe that Bella Mason was contacted, and was able to manifest herself into a semi-physical form. And I believe that she’s tethered to the living because of her brother’s grief for her, and to get rid of her poltergeist we need to help him move on.”

“Are you sure you’re not just thinking of your sister? Of Samantha?” Scully asked. “There are similarities between you and Joel Mason, and I understand why you want to help him come to terms with losing his sister, but there may not be anything you can do.”

Mulder shook his head. “Not every case I take with a dead young girl has to do with Samantha,” he said angrily. “In fact, I would argue that she’s the opposite situation. There’s a chance she is still alive, and if I give up searching for her I will never find her. But Joel’s sister is dead, she’s never coming back, but she’s stuck here with him because of his grief.” He paused just as his voice rose to a shout, and Scully could clearly see the struggle on his face before he went on, much quieter, “Besides, what about your sister?”

That was a low blow, and as the room dropped twenty degrees from the ice of his words Mulder tried to backtrack. “Shit, Scully, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t mean that.”

“No?” Even though Scully was furious, her voice didn’t shake. “What did you mean it like, Mulder?”

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he mumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

As if she could just forget. “What did you mean, Mulder?”

“Nothing, Scully.”

She would have pressed him until he told her what that comment about her dead sister was supposed to mean, but the Masons chose that moment to return. The front door opened, and in walked a man and a woman, followed by a teenage boy. The boy closed the door behind them.

“Well? What did you find out?” The man who asked the question was shorter than his wife, with coarse black hair and sturdy hands.

“There’s nothing in the house that could possibly explain what’s been happening around your son,” Mulder told him. “By the way, this is my FBI partner, Dana Scully.”

Mr. Mason stepped forward to shake Scully’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Scully.”

“You think you can help?” said the woman. Mrs. Mason was tall and skinny, and although she couldn’t have been over 45 the wrinkles on her face made her look much older.

“I can try,” said Scully.

Mrs. Mason nodded, and pushing the kid forward she introduced him, “This is my son, Joel.”

Scully watched the kid roll his eyes through his long, greasy bangs. “So what seems to be the problem here, Joel?”

“I’ve already told y’all,” mumbled Joel.

“Can you repeat it one more time for Agent Scully?” said Mulder.

The boy rolled his eyes but said, “I dunno. Been some weird stuff happening around me is all. Y’all will see for yourselves soon.” His voice cracked on the last word.

“I’ve heard you think it’s because of your sister,” said Scully. “Can you tell me what happened with her?”

Joel shrugged. “Has he shown you the tape?”

Scully nodded. “I’m not quite sure what to make of it,” she said. “It would help if I knew more about her.”

“What else is there to say, she’s dead.”

“She was killed in a car accident in December,” Mrs. Mason told them. “Drunk driver, icy roads.”

“It was her birthday,” added Joel, still barely looking at them. “I wanted to take her out for ice cream. I’d only just got my learner’s permit.”

Poor kid probably blamed himself for his sister’s death, and Scully couldn’t blame him. “It must have been hard to lose your sister like that.”

“How would you know?”

Mulder made eye contact with Scully, but Scully just gave a slight shake of her head. The grieving boy didn’t need to know that Scully did, in fact, know how he was feeling.

“It wasn’t your fault, Joel,” said Scully. “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m surprised nothing’s happened yet,” said Mrs. Mason. “Usually when we talk about her like this–”

As she was talking, the ceiling fan in the living room, which had been off, turned on to the highest speed, and likely even faster than it was supposed to go. The attached light fixture was rattling worryingly as the fan blades spun.

“Stuff like that happens,” Mr. Mason finished for his wife.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. The electrical hum quieted as the fan slowed. Nobody said a word until the fan blades completely stopped moving. Mulder, who was standing the closest, flipped the switch on the wall a couple times. Nothing happened.

“It could have just been an electrical surge,” offered Scully, breaking the tense silence.

“The fan’s not the only thing on that circuit, it should have all blown,” said Mr. Mason.

“That’s not even the first time that’s happened,” said Joel. “I’ve had to reset the breakers five times in the past few days.”

“See that?” said Mrs. Mason. “He’s had to reset the breakers five times in the past few days. We’ve never had electrical problems like this since we moved in twelve years ago.”

It was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to convince Scully that a poltergeist was causing these household disturbances and not a teenage boy begging for attention. “Have you called an electrician?” she asked, an obvious question.

“Well, no,” admitted Mrs. Mason.

“So how can you be sure that that’s not the problem?” said Scully. “There could be faulty wiring you haven’t looked at that’s been affecting certain electrical performances.”

“For every appliance in the house?” protested Mrs. Mason. “After having no problems for a decade? That seems unlikely to me.”

“But not impossible.”

“What about everything else that’s been happening around here?” said Mulder. “Things that can’t be explained by faulty wiring?”

“Like what, Mulder?” Scully hadn’t seen anything yet today that couldn’t be easily explained away, and the Masons’ descriptions were vague. Was there even a problem here?

“Ask them.” Mulder gestured to the Masons. “They’ve been living with it for the past week.”

Mrs. Mason nodded. “Things fly across the room or just break with no one touching them,” she told Scully. “Thankfully, no one’s been hurt so far, but I want it to stop before it does.”

“I understand that, Mrs. Mason,” replied Scully. “What is it you want us to do? What do you think we can do?”

“We were hoping that you’d know what to do,” said Mrs. Mason. “John said that you and Agent Mulder have a lot of experience with the paranormal.”

“Mulder more so than me,” said Scully. “Is that what you think this is? Paranormal?”

“We don’t know what else it could be,” Mr. Mason cut in. “You’ll have to see for yourself if we can’t convince you that this is all happening. Stay for dinner, something will happen. You’ll see.”

Scully looked over at Mulder, a question. He shrugged. “It’s up to you, Scully.”

Either she could stay and waste the rest of her day, or she could turn her back on a family that was asking for her help. Not to mention that Mulder would be disappointed if she left.

Oh well. She’d made worse sacrifices for him. “Fine, I’ll stay,” she said. “But only for dinner.”

Mulder nodded his thanks to her as Mrs. Mason said, “Oh, I hope we can catch this thing.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing happened at dinner. Nothing.

Scully should have known that staying was a waste of her time. She excused herself shortly after they finished eating. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be any more help,” she told Mr. and Mrs. Mason. And, to Joel, “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”

Joel mumbled something under his breath that Scully couldn’t quite make out, but she could guess as to what he was saying.

As Scully was halfway out the door, it suddenly slammed shut, propelling her back into the house. The push was so strong she lost her balance and fell forward onto her knees.

Mulder was by her side immediately to help her up. “Are you alright, Scully?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” And she was, the fall hadn’t hurt her at all. But she was curious. “Does your front door normally do that?” she asked the Masons.

Mrs. Mason shook her head. “That’s never happened before.”

“And there’s nobody outside that could’ve closed the door on me?”

“I certainly hope not.”

One hand on her gun, Scully tried the door again. If there was someone outside, she wasn’t about to leave them for the Mason family to deal with. But this time, the door wouldn’t budge. Even the handle wouldn’t move.

“Weird,” Scully murmured, mostly to herself. Then she turned back to the Masons. “I can’t get this door open. The handle won’t turn.”

Mr. Mason stepped forward to try the doorknob. He could turn it, but when he tried to open the door, it just shut again.

“It’s her,” said Joel. “She doesn’t want you to leave.”

“What do you think is keeping that door shut, Scully?” said Mulder, teasing her with a sarcastic grin. “Just a draft?”

Scully shook her head. “I can’t explain it,” she said. “It does seem as if something doesn’t want me to leave, but that’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible, it’s Bella,” said Joel. “You have to stay and help us get rid of her.”

One of the framed photographs hanging next to the door – there were five of them, black and white photos of Joel and a girl Scully could only assume was Bella Mason – suddenly crashed to the floor. Scully bent down to pick it up. The glass in the frame had shattered, cracks spiderwebbing out from where they crossed right over Bella’s face.

Pictures fell all the time, Scully tried to reassure herself. It happened at her mom’s place, and it happened at her place. But even she couldn’t convince herself that that was all that was going on here.

She turned the frame over in her hand as Joel made some comment behind her. The hook on the back had snapped cleanly in two. Had Scully not looked, she could have explained it away as wear and tear, but with a break as clean as this one that could not be the case.

Mulder met her eyes as she turned back around. “I don’t know, Mulder,” she said. “I can’t explain this either.”

“It’s Bella,” Joel repeated. “We’ve told you. Now you’ve seen it.”

Maybe something was going on here after all. While nothing couldn’t be explained away on its own, admittedly the chance of it all happening at the same time coincidentally was slim.

“Fine. I’ve seen it,” said Scully. “What do you expect me to do? What do you expect us to do?”

“We thought you’d know,” said Mr. Mason. “Isn’t that what you do for a living?”

“What, do you think we show up to work in the Mystery Machine?” Scully snapped.

“What Scully means is that we have a variety of cases, and each case can be something completely new to us,” Mulder stepped in carefully. “We’re not always able to solve all of them.”

“Do you think you can solve this one?”

In Scully’s opinion, this case was already solved. The Masons knew, or believed they knew, exactly what the problem was. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing more for them to do here.

Okay, so she probably shouldn’t have snapped at Mr. Mason. It was unprofessional of her. Although, this wasn’t even a real case. What did it matter?

Mulder was trying to assure the Masons that he was doing all he could. “Scully has no firsthand experience with banishing spirits,” he was saying. “So Bella, if you’re listening to me, if you can hear me, I think you should let her go. Let my partner go, Bella.”

The front door slowly swung open.

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” said Scully. “Good luck, Mulder.” As she stepped outside the house, the door closed again, all by itself.

As Scully drove off, she couldn’t help but feel bad about leaving them without doing anything to help. But Mulder was right; there was nothing that she could have done. Mulder at least might have a chance of success.

When Scully got back home, she left a voicemail on Mulder’s answering machine. “Mulder, it’s me. Give me a call when you get home.”

***

The phone rang, waking Scully. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as she felt around for her phone on her night table. “Hello?” The word came out as a groan.

“Sc – Scully, it’s me.”

Of course it was Mulder. Who else would be calling her at this time of night? But something about his voice sounded off.

“Mulder, is everything okay? Are you alright?” asked Scully. “Are you back home?”

“No…”

Scully sat up, wide awake now. It was 2:32 am. “Mulder, where are you?”

“’M still in Coal.” Was he slurring his words, or was Scully just imagining it?

And what was he still doing in Coal? “You’re not still with the Masons?”

“No.”

Scully strained to hear any background noise over the phone, but she could hear nothing. Either Mulder was inside, or Coal was dead at this time of night.

“So where are you?”

“I was on the way home. Passed by a bar.” Mulder paused to take a deep breath. “A real shitty bar. That kind of night.”

“Are you still drunk, Mulder?” Her partner often called at this hour to discuss a case. Never before had he called her after he’d been drinking.

“A little,” he admitted to her.

“You better not be driving.” Scully knew Mulder knew better than to drive drunk. But still she had to ask.

“’M not,” he promised her.

Scully waited. No more information was forthcoming. “Do you need me to drive back down and pick you up?” She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. She would if he needed her to, but she would certainly not let him forget it.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m at a motel. Next to the bar. Walked here. Checked in just before I called you.”

That was good. Although it begged the question. “Why did you call me, Mulder?”

“I… dunno.”

“Go to bed, Mulder,” sighed Scully. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Mulder mumbled something, but the words were too quiet and slurred for Scully to understand.

“What?”

“I failed, Scully. They just needed me to do one thing and I failed.”

She didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “It’s okay, Mulder, they must have known it was a possibility that you couldn’t do anything.”

“I thought I could, though.”

Scully knew that Mulder had wanted, even expected, to be able to help these people. He probably hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to. “I know, Mulder, it’s okay.”

“They needed my help and I failed them, Scully.”

Okay. So Mulder was even more self-deprecating drunk than he was sober. And sober Mulder was bad enough. “You did everything you could, Mulder.”

“I’m gonna go back there tomorrow. I gotta do all I can.”

“You’ve already done all you can.” Was she really doing this now? She should just hang up, go to sleep. “Go to bed, Mulder. It’s late, and you’re drunk.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Will you come back tomorrow, Scully? With me?”

“Call me tomorrow,” said Scully. She wasn’t going to promise him anything. “If you need me there, I’ll come. Okay?”

“I always need you, Scully.”

Oh no. He wouldn’t have said that if he wasn’t drunk, and she was not going to deal with this tonight. “Something tells me I won’t be much help with banishing a poltergeist,” she told him. “If you need me tomorrow, call me.”

“I woke you up, didn’t I. I’m sorry.”

Now he realized. “You’ve never apologized for that before, why start now?” Scully couldn’t help but tease.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna be okay, Mulder?” Dammit, how could he both infuriate and worry her at the same time?

“Yeah. Yeah I’m gonna be fine,” said Mulder. “Goodnight, Scully.”

Scully put the phone back down, rolled over, and fell asleep again instantly.

***

It was 9:58 am when Scully woke up. She rarely slept in past 8 on Sundays; this was probably because of Mulder’s late phone call.

She should check on him. But he could wait until she showered and ate breakfast.

It turned out he couldn’t. Scully had just stepped out of the shower when her phone rang. “Hello?” she answered it, wrapped in a towel, as if it would be anybody but Mulder.

“Scully, it’s me.”

“Where are you at now, Mulder?”

“I’m still in Coal. In a motel.” He paused for a couple seconds. “Did I really call you last night, or did I just dream that?”

“Do you normally dream about calling me?” He made it too easy to tease him.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admitted. “Scully, please.”

“You called me around 2:30 last night,” Scully told him. “You were drunk.”

Mulder let out a loud sigh, but Scully could tell that it was himself he was annoyed at and not her. “That’s embarrassing,” he chuckled. “I was hoping I’d dreamt that.”

“It’s fine, Mulder.” They both knew that it wasn’t fine, that Mulder had crossed what should have been a professional boundary. But neither chose to mention that. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Let’s just say I’m not in college anymore, Scully,” he said. “I’m still going to go back to the Masons’ house today. They still could use my help.”

“If you need me to drive down again today, I can do it,” offered Scully. “I’m sure I won’t be any more help today, but if you need something, call me.”

“Thanks, Scully.”

Three hours after Mulder hung up, Scully’s phone rang again.


	5. Chapter 5

“Joel wants to use the Ouija board again to try to contact his sister,” Mulder had told her. “The only way I could convince him not to do anything rash was to tell him you were coming. Please, Scully.”

And because Scully couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes – yes, even when she couldn’t see them, apparently – here she was, driving back to Coal, Virginia, to try to help her crazy partner get rid of the poltergeist of a dead girl she wasn’t convinced was even real.

Yes, this was exactly how she wanted to spend her Sunday.

When she got to Coal, Mulder was waiting for her outside the Masons’ house. “Thanks for coming, Scully,” he greeted her, guiding her up the steps to the front door with a hand on the small of her back. “I’m sorry to call you out again, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

What makes you think I can help you? Scully bit back the words, instead merely saying, “I leave you for one night and you can’t function without me, Mulder.”

“They’re getting desperate here, Scully,” said Mulder, opening the door for her. “This morning, a glass broke in Joel’s hand. They were still picking the glass out when I got here.”

“Accidents like that do happen,” Scully pointed out. “Has his hand been cleaned and dressed?”

All three Masons were waiting for them on the couch in the living room.

“Yes, he’s alright, it was a shallow wound. But we want to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

By that, Scully knew Mulder meant banishing the poltergeist, sending it back to wherever it came from. But that would only work if there was a poltergeist, and Scully was still convinced that there was a mundane explanation for everything that had been happening around Joel.

The mundane explanation was, in fact, Joel. It was likely that he was acting out for attention, and clearly it was working. But it was hurting him and causing his parents distress, so it had to stop.

Problem was, there was no way Scully could bring that up without appearing callous and rude.

“Can I take a look at your hand, Joel?” she asked him. She wanted to make sure that his injuries had been properly cleaned and dressed. As he held out his hand to her and she unwrapped his bandage, she asked, “Was anything in the glass when it broke?”

Joel just shook his head.

Everything seemed to be fine, and the bleeding had stopped, so Scully wrapped his hand back up.

“Now what?”

“Before you got here, Agent Scully, Joel suggested using the Ouija board to contact Bella again,” said Mrs. Mason. “What do you think about that?”

Scully knew that, it was why Mulder had called her back down here. She licked her lips before answering, “I don’t think that would help us in this case. The purpose of a Ouija board is to summon a spirit. But the spirit – Bella – has already been summoned. So unless you want to risk summoning someone else, I’d advise against it.”

“I just want to talk to her,” said Joel. “How else am I supposed to do that?”

“Scully’s right,” said Mulder. “Bella’s already here. If you want to talk to her, just call her. She’ll hear you.”

“But I want to know what she says back.”

“An estimated 95% of all communication is nonverbal,” said Mulder. “If you listen close enough, you’ll know what she’s trying to tell you.”

“But I want to hear her.”

“You will,” Mulder reassured him. “It just won’t be what you expect.”

In the kitchen, the oven timer beeped, twice. They all turned to look through the kitchen doorway, but nothing was there.

“See?” said Mulder. “That’s her, you just have to know what to listen for.”

“Agents,” said Mr. Mason, “as much as I would love to have my little girl back, this is not how I want that. What can you do?”

The two of them exchanged a look; Scully gave a small shrug, and a brief look of panic flitted across Mulder’s face.

“I’ll call the Gunmen,” he decided. “Maybe Byers has a better idea.” He excused himself to make the phone call.

This left Scully alone with the Masons, which was arguably worse than the awkward silences as nobody knew what to do. At least then, she had Mulder to rely on.

But now at least was her chance. “Joel, do you mind if I have a word with your parents?”

Joel nodded and wandered into the kitchen.

Mrs. Mason turned to Scully, one eyebrow raised.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mason,” began Scully quietly, “I don’t mean to appear rude, but there is a possibility that your son is causing all of this. It could be grief over the death of Bella or other circumstances in his life that are causing him to act out.”

“No.” Mrs. Mason shook her head. “No, that can’t be it. I know my boy. He wouldn’t do anything like this.”

“It’s something to consider,” said Scully. “Have you thought about taking him to counseling at all? Or even just talking to him yourselves could help. I just want to go over all the options, instead of jumping to conclusions.”

Mrs. Mason looked offended that Scully would even suggest such a thing. “Are you implying that we have been lying to you?”

“No, no, not at all,” Scully started to reply, but a sudden movement caught her eye.

It was Joel, still in the kitchen. One second he’d been standing there, looking into the pantry, and the next he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankle, by an unseen force.

“Joel!” gasped Scully, running over to the doorway. But she couldn’t get through.

Mr. and Mrs. Mason were right behind her, pushing her into the invisible barrier in the doorway.

“I can’t get through.” Scully turned around and met Mrs. Mason’s eyes. “I can’t get to him.”

Mrs. Mason pushed past Scully, but she couldn’t get through to Joel either. “Joel?” she called out.

Joel turned to face them, eyes wide, not saying a word.

Where was Mulder? Scully left the kitchen doorway to look for him, just as he was coming back around, his phone in his hand. “Nobody is answering,” said Mulder. “I’ve left three messages–” Then he noticed the two Masons in the kitchen doorway. “What’s going on?”

“See for yourself.”

Mulder was tall enough that he could see Joel over both Mr. and Mrs. Mason. Turning back to Scully, he asked her, “Why is no one doing anything?”

“We can’t get through to him,” Scully told him. “Whatever’s lifting him into the air is also blocking the door.”

“There’s no other way into the kitchen?”

Mrs. Mason shook her head. “There’s only the back door, but it’s locked and we don’t have the keys. We’ve been meaning to replace the lock for months.” Then, to Joel, “Sweetie, are you doing okay in there? Can you get out?”

Again he turned to face them; it seemed to take a large amount of effort. “I can’t hear you!” He tried shouting, but from the other side the words were garbled as if he was speaking underwater.

“What are you saying?”

It was obvious he couldn’t understand them, either. He was on his own in there. None of them could do anything but watch.

So they watched, as Joel began talking. Scully could only assume it was to Bella. Who else, really, could cause anything like this to happen? Even Scully had no other explanation.

Joel was lifted higher into the air, still upside down, and he began to spin. Slowly at first, but he gradually sped up, until he was going at one rotation every couple seconds. The poor kid’s face became more and more panicked, and more and more emotional, until he was crying, pleading with Bella, or with whatever it was, to let him go.

Eventually, it did, and he dropped, crumpling to the ground. It was at that exact moment that the barrier preventing the rest of them from entering the kitchen disappeared, and Mr. and Mrs. Mason ran to check on their son. Mulder followed.

Scully stayed back, at first, to keep an eye on the scene. She saw the smoky shape of a young girl stand over the family, unnoticed by them, and she watched as the figure glided across the floor, made brief, unsettling eye contact with Scully, and dissolved through the window.

It was over. Scully mentally shook off what she had seen and went to rejoin Mulder and the family.

The kid was unharmed – Scully had double-checked for signs of a concussion – and seemed to agree with Scully that that was the last they’d see of Bella. Mr. and Mrs. Mason were happy to believe it.

There was nothing more to do here. Scully took Mulder’s hand and led him out of the house.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she remarked, dropping his hand once they reached his car in the driveway. “Is everything alright?”

Mulder nodded. “It will be.” He looked closer at Scully. “Are you okay?”

Making a split second decision not to tell him about the vision of the girl that she had seen, Scully nodded. “I’m fine, Mulder.”

He briefly touched her shoulder, and said, “Thanks for coming, Scully.” He held her gaze for several seconds.

Scully could tell there was more he wanted to say. “Do you want to grab some lunch before we head back?” she suggested.

“Sure,” agreed Mulder. “I’ve already checked out of the motel, so…” He gestured to her car. “Lead the way.”

So Scully got in her car and drove off, Mulder following close behind. They pulled into an Applebee’s, and when they were seated, Scully said, “I can tell there’s more on your mind, Mulder.”

Mulder nodded.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded again. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” said Scully, putting her hand over his on the table. “If it’s something you want to talk about, I’m here, Mulder.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ve both had a rough couple of weeks, Scully,” said Mulder. “I think we should both talk about things. Is that okay?”

Slowly, Scully nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get around to writing the last chapter, it will probably be posted sometime in the next 2 weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

Scully left it up to Mulder to start the conversation; she didn’t even know where to begin, or what he wanted to talk about.

Their waitress came by to take their drink order, and when she left again Scully pretended to be engrossed in the lunch menu to put off the inevitable.

Mulder let her get away with it, until the waitress came back, set their drinks on the table, and took their orders and their menus.

With nothing to shield her now, Scully reluctantly met Mulder’s gaze. “Why are you so determined to not talk to me, Scully?” he asked her. “It’s just me.”

“I know, Mulder,” she replied. “I just don’t want anything to come between us at work; I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“It’s as much your work as it is mine, now,” said Mulder quietly. “And I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would get between us.”

Scully took a sip of her water. “That’s not something you can promise, Mulder.”

“I’m promising it, Scully.”

There was something being said between the lines, there, but Scully was not ready to hear that yet. So all she said was, “What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to be honest with me,” said Mulder. “Can you do that?”

They were partners, and they’d been through too much together to not be friends, so it wasn’t like Scully had gotten into the habit of lying to him. But she could admit to a tendency to avoid difficult conversations, as she could tell this was going to be. Still, she nodded.

“How are you feeling, Scully?”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she told him. “I wasn’t injured at all at the site.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

And you know it, Scully finished the sentence in her head.

Mulder went on, “I wouldn’t have asked you to come all the way to Coal for me if I’d known that about the sister, especially since this wasn’t even a case.”

“Known what about the sister, Mulder?” Scully still hadn’t forgotten that Mulder had tried to say something about her own sister yesterday.

“That she was killed, that her brother blamed himself for it,” said Mulder. “I know some of that must have reminded you of Melissa. And I’m sorry for exposing you to it when you may not have been ready for that.”

“Mulder, I’m fine,” repeated Scully. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. And I never let my personal problems get in the way of my work.”

“I know,” Mulder told her. “You came back to work two hours after your father’s funeral, and two days after your sister’s.”

How dare he lecture her like this, as if she wasn’t grieving the right way. “You came back to work the same day I did, after your father died,” she pointed out.

“My father and I weren’t close, Scully,” argued Mulder. “Not like you and Melissa.” He took a deep breath, and paused before continuing, “I’m sorry, Scully. I don’t want to fight about this.”

“But?” she prompted.

“But I don’t want you to feel like you have to pretend like it’s not affecting you,” he told her. “Especially around me.”

It was true that Mulder would understand better than anyone. “I’m not pretending like it’s not affecting me, Mulder,” said Scully. “Just because I deal with my grief differently than you doesn’t make it wrong.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying–” Mulder took another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Scully. Obviously you don’t want to have this conversation.”

Scully opened her mouth to argue with that, but the waitress chose that moment to bring their food out to them. A turkey club with mixed veggies for Scully, and a double cheeseburger with seasoned fries for Mulder. They thanked their waitress, and she left them to it.

This was the perfect opportunity for Scully to put off the rest of the conversation. Mulder was right, after all; Scully did not want to talk about this. But they needed to.

As Mulder dug into his burger, Scully said, “I want you to say what you have to say, Mulder. Just because it’s hard to hear doesn’t make it any less important.”

It took Mulder an excruciating ten seconds to finish chewing and swallow his bite. “Do you think we could put it off just a little bit longer?” he asked, grinning. “I’m starving, Scully.”

The tension broken, Scully couldn’t help but smile too as she plucked the toothpick from her sandwich and took a bite.

For the most part, they ate in comfortable silence. Mulder turned his plate around so it would be easier for Scully to steal his fries.

When they finished their lunch, the waitress came by once more to take their plates away and bring the check. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I’ll pay,” offered Mulder. “I still owe you for coming out here.”

So they finished up inside, but when they left the restaurant neither was sure of what to do. They had parked next to each other, and now they stood in the narrow space between their cars, waiting for the other to speak first.

Finally, Mulder cleared his throat and said, “My place is closer, do you want to come over for coffee or something?”

“That would be nice,” agreed Scully. “I’ll meet you there?”

Mulder nodded and got into his car. Scully got into her own car and started the engine, waiting for Mulder to pull out before she followed him out of the parking lot.

She had the whole drive back to clear her head. Highway driving was always relaxing to her, had been since she was a teenager with little regard for the speed limit. Scully had grown up quite a bit since then, and traffic on 95 was always terrible, so she crawled along behind all the other cars. Still, she rolled her windows all the way down.

Somehow, Scully arrived at Mulder’s apartment before he did. She had just plugged in the coffeepot when Mulder came in.

He set a couple plastic bags on the kitchen counter next to the fridge. With a sheepish smile, he told her, “I realized on the way home that I have no food in the house. So I had to make a couple stops.”

From one of the bags he pulled out two different types of coffee grounds, a bag of sugar, and a bottle of creamer. Scully peeked into the other one; it contained a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a pair of oranges.

“French vanilla or hazelnut decaf?”

“Decaf, please.”

Scully watched as Mulder tore open the bag of hazelnut decaf and measured the grounds into the coffee maker. Then he poured in some water and started the machine.

While they waited, they went over to sit on the couch in the living room. They sat close but not touching, and Scully put her feet up on the coffee table.

“Look, Scully,” began Mulder, breaking the silence, but just then the coffeepot beeped to signal that it was ready.

Miraculously there were two clean coffee mugs in the cupboard above the sink. Scully remained on the couch as Mulder poured out the coffee and brought the steaming mugs back to the living room.

It was obvious which one was meant for Scully. She took it carefully, nodding her thanks as she brought it to her lips. Two years into their partnership, and Mulder knew exactly how much cream and sugar Scully liked in her coffee.

Mulder blew on his own coffee and took a sip before starting again, “Scully, about what we were talking about earlier…” His voice trailed off and he took a breath. “Your sister died because of me. And I’m sorry that she was a casualty of my search for the truth. She deserved better than that.”

Whatever Scully had been expecting him to say, that was not it, and she struggled to form a response. “You couldn’t have known, Mulder,” she said. “If anything, I should have been more careful.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Mulder asked her, “What do you mean?”

“At your funeral, I was warned that they would try to kill me,” she told him. “Missy called and told me she was coming over. I should have heeded that man’s warning.”

Yes, Scully had called her sister back and tried to tell her not to come. But there was still more she could have done, more she should have done. But she hadn’t. And then she had the audacity to be surprised when she received the call.

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Scully,” said Mulder, quietly. “It’s the fault of the men who started the conspiracy, before either of us were even born.”

“It still hurts.” It was hard for Scully to admit, even, especially, to Mulder.

He set his mug down on the coffee table and pulled her into his arms. “I know, Scully,” he murmured. “I know.”

Together they sat like that, silently, until long after their coffee grew cold. The room became dark around them and still they didn’t move.

“They’ve stolen sisters from both of us now,” Scully finally broke the silence. “I’m in this as deep as you are now.” She had been since their first case in Bellefleur, really, and even more so after her abduction. “I want the truth as badly as you do, Mulder. I want to know what my sister was killed for.”

“For her sake, and your own, I hope you find out,” replied Mulder. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Scully nodded, and leaned her head back against Mulder’s chest.

More time passed, and then Mulder said, “I met her a couple times. Your sister,” he added, as if Scully needed him to clarify.

“Yeah?” Scully had heard about this from Melissa, but Mulder had never brought it up until now.

“My source had told me that the men who abducted you were coming to my apartment. I was sitting there waiting for them with a loaded gun. And your sister came to my door.”

Scully tried to move to sit up and look at him, but Mulder held her head to his chest with a hand in her hair. He went on, “She told me you might not make it through the night. She begged me to come see you. I almost didn’t.”

The vibrations from his voice were comforting to Scully; in some way, she felt his words just as much as she heard them.

“I wanted justice for you, Scully.” There was a hint of anger in his words now. “The law wasn’t going to punish these men, but I had the chance to. In the end, I decided to see you in the hospital.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I realized that having you was more important to me than bringing these men to justice. When I came back to my apartment that night, it was trashed. But the next day, you had pulled out of your coma, Scully.”

Shit, she could feel the tears threaten to start back up. She blinked them back, but a couple still escaped and absorbed into Mulder’s shirt.

He held her tighter as he continued, “I believe that had I not been there, you would have died. Which means your sister saved your life, Scully, because if not for her I wouldn’t have gone. And I will always, always be grateful to her for that. Because if I didn’t have you, I don’t know where I would be.”

There was nothing to say after that. They fell into silence once more.

It was getting late, and Scully began yawning. She pushed herself out of Mulder’s grip to say, no louder than a whisper, that she should get going, that she was tired and they had work tomorrow.

“Stay with me,” begged Mulder. “Please. I need you.” He wasn’t afraid to admit that now.

Scully couldn’t refuse. She brushed her lips to his forehead and told him she would, but only tonight.

Mulder smiled, and he took her hand and led her into his bedroom.

“I didn’t know you had a bed, Mulder,” she teased.

“Yeah, it’s for emergencies,” he replied.

“Like what?” Scully sat on the edge of the bed as Mulder rummaged around in his dresser drawer.

He tossed some cotton pajamas at her and said, “In case beautiful women want to spend the night.”

Scully jumped up and gave the bed a pretend suspicious look. “How many beautiful women have been in this bed?” She headed for the bathroom to change.

“Just you,” he called after her.

And that was something else that Scully wasn’t ready to hear yet, and that was okay, and she came out of the bathroom and got settled in the bed right next to Mulder, platonically of course, and he kissed her hair and whispered, “Good night, Scully,” as he turned out the light.

Just for tonight, Scully let herself fall asleep cuddled up right next to Mulder. Just for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm forever salty that Melissa was killed and Scully wasn't allowed to grieve for more than like 2 minutes but Whatever


End file.
